Our Father
by JeiC
Summary: Why do I hate him so much? I can barely remember his face.


Disclaimer: As much as I love Ed, I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. I can only dream up crazy stories.  
Author's notes: I notice that I've only been writing lately when I'm really upset over something. Not very productive way of doing it, but ah well – here's the fruits of my latest efforts.  
Also, this is my entry for the 42-Days contest on the ff .net message board. So yes, forty-two days, message, and board all exist in this entry and no, there is no romance and none implied.  
Warning: angst, minor language  
  


**Our Father**

by JeiC  
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I hate him... I truly hate that man. I have only a vague remembrance of what my father looks like and not a memory of his voice or how he treated me, but I hate the bastard. He left Mom, Al, and me for who-knows-what... military I think.

Walking along the rainy streets, I let my thoughts wander again. It happens every time someone comments how much we... or more so I, the boy alchemy-genius Edward Elric, am like my father. That annoys me to no end. It's never the same either – one time it's a compliment and another time it's an insult.

We never needed a father. Al and I grew up without him – even learned alchemy on our own, but I think that made Mom happy and sad at the same time. We were her little geniuses, but apparently we were also our father's sons. What we learned, we learned through our own hard work. How could we be like someone who was never around to begin with?

Stopping at a corner to let a car drive by, I shift my weight – the automail gets irritating in bad weather. My leg more so than my arm for some odd reason. Maybe if he had been around, we wouldn't have done what we did, but then we wouldn't be who we are today either. Of course, I might also not hate him so much either.

There are days when that's one of only two things that keeps me going – my hate towards him and my desire to restore Al's body. As for me... the automail is my punishment for my sin – I deserve having the touch-less mobility of a normal person. Besides, the title of Fullmetal wouldn't be so ironically appropriate anymore.

Something nearby in the misty rain catches my eye and I turn to see what it is. The big bag of food shifts and I struggle to keep it steady and not crush it from my sudden turn. Even after all these years I still feel awkward having something in both hands and only being able to feel it with one. Lost my leg for Mom and my arm for Al... I won't regret my decisions.

Mom always got this look when we created something with alchemy. I never liked it. She was always looking off into the distance as if willing him to suddenly appear over the top of the hill. Sometimes I wondered if we weren't good enough... if I wasn't good enough to replace that self-centered man. Sure I was a kid, but I could do alchemy like him, and Al and I helped out a lot around the house... okay, so maybe I was a little lazy sometimes – Al was just better at doing that stuff.

Shifting the bundle in my arms, I realize that I've been standing at the corner for awhile staring at a bulletin board with a posting for a father-son event. Shaking to clear the thoughts out of my head, I continue on my way.

Mom first got that look the day that we scared Winry trying to make her a present. She was so excited, but then she started thinking about our father. It wasn't until I was much older that I realized it was probably heartbreak that made her so sick. I mean, I'm pretty sure the doctors said it was a disease or something, but if our father had been around, then she wouldn't have been heartbroken and all of this wouldn't have happened... or at least things wouldn't have been so hard on Al and I.

The rain is coming down harder now and I find temporary shelter under some shop's little overhang. Snagging a roll out of the bag, I munch on it and play the waiting game to see if the rain is going to let up a little. My coat is soaked through and it won't be long before my jacket and my shirt are as well. I don't mind getting wet, I just really don't want to have to oil the automail later. It's hard without someone else and I feel bad asking Al or Winry to help me with areas I can't reach.

You know, Mom was sick – really sick for a long time, but he never came home. We sent letters to everyone our father had received letters from that we could find. Every message we got back gave their condolences and said they had not seen him in a long time. Forty-two days after we received the last letter, she died. He never came... the good-for-nothing, God-damn, son-of-a-bitch never even came to her funeral.

Balancing the bag with my left, I rotate my shoulder. It's starting to get stiff between the weight of the bag and the arm itself. Apparently I make having automail look easy, but this is nothing compared to Al's pain. The pain I caused him because I was so desperate to bring Mom back... because that bastard wasn't around.

If I had only resented him before, I hated him then. I wanted mom back so bad I made the suggestion to revive her with alchemy. I hated him so much that I would've traded his life for hers. Now, I know the secrets of the Philosopher's Stone, but Al would hate me if I used our father to make it. So, I will find another way, restore Al, and show up my father... provided the bastard is still alive somewhere.

Wiping the crumbs off on my pants, I start walking again as the rain lets up. Winry is going to yell at me if I don't get back soon. It's kind of hard having her around as nice as it is to have my mechanic on hand – mostly because I forget to buy food for more than just myself. Sometimes I wonder how she did it though – lived after her parents were killed that is.

Sometimes I wonder how it would have been if our father had been home all this time... How would he have treated us? Would mom have still died? If mom had still died, would he have tried to remarry? Would he have let us go off with some crazy woman to learn alchemy? Would I not be a dog of the military? Would I not hate him?

Will this rain ever stop? I duck into the doorway of the hotel we are staying in and shake out my coat as best as I can with one unfeeling hand. The rain is coming down in sheets and now I'm definitely soaked straight through. Sure I could use alchemy to dry myself off, but why waste the energy at this point? Waving to the person behind the desk, who acts like he's never seen a person caught in a downpour before, I trudge up to the room. At least I'm not dripping all over his floor.

My father... I can't get this hateful feeling to go away. Al always gets excited whenever someone compliments that we are so much like our father. He doesn't understand why I get pissed off. Hell, I don't even understand fully. I can see the basic reasons, but if Al can be content, why can't I?

Kicking the door with my foot made of metal, I find yet another odd quirk to having the artificial limb.  
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Fin October 2004  
by JeiC  
Comments?  
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Special thanks to:  
**silverado6000:** Thank you so much for beta reading this fic. Especially putting up with me when I'm half asleep and can't type for nothing.  
**Salmastryon:** Another beta reader that I have to bow to in much gratitude... even though you bled all over it. j/k Thanks also for pointing me at the contest and suggesting that I enter. You have more faith in my writing than I do.  
**Kitsune:** Thank you for finding all the little bits that I kept running past.  
**Jay, Eric, and Kota Magic:** Even though you guys weren't familiar at all with FMA, thank you for looking at it before I posted it.  
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